


count contessa

by thefudge



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Choking, Dark, Dark Bonnie Bennett, F/M, Fucked Up, Religious Fanaticism, ost: azealia banks - count contessa, this is a cursed fic just letting you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: This one doesn’t scream.
Relationships: Bonnie Bennett/Malachai "Kai" Parker
Comments: 23
Kudos: 44





	count contessa

**Author's Note:**

> i have a million other things to finish/write, but apparently it's bonkai season.  
> i honestly can't explain what this is, so i won't even try. umm, happy reading?

This one doesn’t scream.

He parts the shower curtain with the edge of his knife and waits for her to notice him while drops of hot water splash his shirt and steam tickles his nostrils. She continues to shampoo her hair, heedless of his breath on the back of her shoulder.

It’s only when he runs the tip of the blade down the side of her hip that she startles.

She jumps a little.

But that’s all.

She turns around slowly. Does not put her hands up to cover herself.

And she doesn’t scream. She wipes shampoo from her eyes and stares at him, wide-eyed and alert.

Kai doesn’t really know where to go from here.

Usually, they scream. And that’s when he cuts their throats to shut them up. Or slices through their thorax. It’s a mixed bag.

“You’re late,” the petite woman suddenly speaks.

She sounds displeased. Almost bossy.

Kai frowns.

“Late?”

He hates the reedy sound of his voice. Like he’s just been called into the principal’s office.

“I was expecting you an hour ago. I’ve washed my hair five times already.”

Her green eyes are made brighter with a manic sort of energy, almost supernatural. Like if he turned off the light they’d glow in the dark.

It’s easy to stare at them instead of the nakedness on display. Everything about her is solid and perky, yet also, weirdly dreamlike.

“How did you know I was coming?” he rasps, knife poised between them.

Bonnie Bennett – because he checked her name on the house bills – rolls her eyes.

“I summoned you here. Well, I didn’t ask you to bring a knife. But I guess you're not a very imaginative killer.”

And for the first time in ages, Kai Parker, would-be serial killer and clumsy home-invader, blushes.

He wants to tuck the knife away. He wants to cut ribbons across those full lips, because who the _hell_ does she think she is? And – and can she keep going?

“Anyway, I’m not big on stabbing," she explains. "I’ve had a couple of run-ins with hatchets and I can’t say I’ve enjoyed any of them. I’m more of a choke-to-death kind of girl.”

Kai’s jaw falls open.

Comically so. 

Okay…where are the secret cameras? Or did he actually never leave his house and he’s still lying in bed with his photo stash strewn across his lap?

“Is this…real?” he asks stupidly.

Usually, he’s the one with the quips, but he’s all out now.

Bonnie folds her arms, but that does little to cover her chest.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but I cast a spell – if you want to call it that – to find the nearest killer in my area.”

“Tinder for murder?” he asks, throat dry.

“Exactly. You were my first match.”

“Wait, _spell_?” he asks, catching on to the absurdity a moment later.

“You don’t have to bother with that. All you need to know is –” she sucks in a deep breath, “I like dying and coming back to life. It’s a bad habit I’m trying to quit, but I don't think tonight's the night. It’s been a very stressful month and I need some release. Do you get what I mean?”

Kai stares at her heart-shaped face.

He’s trying to come to terms with this absolutely batshit scenario.

Now, he was raised by religious zealots who told him God had given him free will. God had blessed him with freedom, even if his heart was black as night. So, he wanted to believe that he’d _chosen_ Bonnie’s house at random, that, at most, he’d been drawn to the “single attractive woman” sign above her door.

But she’s saying that she led him here. Like mice to cheese.

“But mice don’t actually like cheese,” he mutters absent-mindedly.

“Hey, American Psycho,” she snaps her fingers at him. “Focus. I asked you a question.”

“What?”

She heaves an impatient sigh. “Do you want to kill me or not?”

_No fucking way._

_Fuck yeah._

Kai vacillates between the two warring instincts. He feels this has to be a trap. Nothing this good comes this easy. And he’s not sure this is a good thing.

Nothing about her pastel-colored apartment and cute turtle tchotchkes and normal day job indicated she was…well…

_Like me._

The discovery thrills him. Like the first time he tasted an ice cone, tongue freezing, but warm, head wheezing with an out-of-body experience.

He tucks the knife in his back pocket. Wipes damp hair from his forehead. Clears his throat.

“You said you prefer a choke-hold?”

He sounds super shy and cute, if a little unhinged. 

There’s something very ‘boy band’ about him, a kind of Varsity Blues flavor, combined with the aesthetics of a sullen Donnie Darko.

It’s like she managed to channel the perfect teenage psychopath. He’s old enough to have a kid, but he still looks like every other guy who listened to Limp Bizkit in the back of the class.

Oh, he’s a fucking psychopath, she knows that very well, and once he’s been put to good use she will probably… _disable_ him. Drain him of his life force or wipe out his entire memory. Or kill him, if push comes to shove.

But…she can enjoy him, meanwhile, can’t she?

“Like this,” she shows him, even though, technically, he’s done this before.

But apparently, he was doing it wrong.

“You don’t just squeeze like a maniac until they’re blue in the face,” she tells him with sage self-assurance, stroking his wrists, picking up his fingers like they’re toy soldiers and placing them on the hollows between collarbone. “You apply pressure where you need to. You have to, uhhh, pay attention to my breathing and the way my body reacts. Can you do that?”

Kai swallows thickly.

They’re standing in her shower. She dragged him in the tub. She didn’t make him take off his boots. He’s fully clothed and she’s still absolutely fucking naked, but he feels open and raw like a freshly carved wound.

“Yeah. I – I can do that.”

Bonnie darts one playful knee between his legs. “We’re gonna do this a few times, okay? I want you to keep going. I’ll tell you when to stop. My limit is usually six.”

He almost chokes. “Six chokings?”

She nods, leaning her head against the wet tiles. “I mean – maybe I can do more, but all the guys I've tried this with chickened out at six, so…”

Kai feels a shiver run down his spine. He leans close, lifts her still soapy hands to his mouth, but he doesn’t kiss them. He just holds them there.

“I won’t chicken out,” he vows and he has never meant _anything_ in his life the way he means this.

He is ready to stake his life on it.

Bonnie likes the little monster in his eyes. 

It’s the kind of monster you can trust to do a job well.

But he’s still young.

So, right on the second choking, he loses his fucking grip.

It’s incredible –watching her come back to life.

He thought he liked watching people's lights go out.

But there’s nothing like her green eyes blazing open minutes after her pulse died.

At first, she falls into his arms invitingly. He cradles her to him, wondering if she’s just one of those crazy, suicidal ladies who thought nothing could kill them.

But then, he finds out nothing _can_ kill her.

She sinks her nails into his cheek as she raises her head and breathes life into his face. “Not bad.”

Her lips are wet with saliva and the taste of death.

It’s when he has her body against the tiles a second time and he works his fingers against her throat that he feels all of it rushing through him, the elation and confirmation of life after death. The miracle of epiphany.

Maybe the nutty fundamentalists who raised him were right. Or maybe she’s the devil incarnate. It’s all the same to him. He wants to fucking kneel here and worship.

So he leans his forehead against her and he inhales the scent of her skin mixed with shampoo and he lets his thumb stroke the side of her jaw and his mouth ghosts over her temples as he calibrates the air going in and out of her throat. And the devil girl says to him, “mmm-more…t-tighter…” and that’s when he comes into his pants like a fifth grader. And he moans and rocks into her, trying to keep going, but his hands slip and yeah – he blew it.

Bonnie stares down at him in pity.

He really is pretty cute for a lost cause.

He’s kneeling before her in a show of humility.

She’s toweling her hair, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I can do it, I swear,” he says. “I can choke the living shit out of you. I just need – I just –”

“Yes?”

“I need a moment.”

“A moment?”

He nods.

“You’re suddenly thinking about the sanctity of life?” she wonders.

He chuckles hoarsely. “No. Fuck no. I just – you know how Moses couldn’t stare straight at God because he was so bright and the old man had to write all that shit down on tablets?”

Bonnie blinks. “I’m familiar.”

“Well, that’s you. God. I’m Moses. I’m fucking blinded by the light.”

She cocks her head to the side. The light, huh?

So not only is he a psychopath, but a religious one to boot. Suppose that adds a little something to it.

“When are you going to recover your sight?” she asks sardonically.

Kai plants his forehead against her knees. He runs his fingers up and down her calves, feeling the texture of her skin. Calibration.

They sit like that for several minutes. Kai’s lips work a strange arabesque against her flesh. Like he’s mumbling psalms, little pretty prayers in praise of her big fucking dick.

He licks the underside of her knee. She doesn’t part her thighs, no matter how hard he tries to pry them open.

And then he drags her towards him and puts his hands around her throat.

She laughs, opening herself to him.

She can feel his heated, reverent breath on her forehead.

When he passes number six he’s elated.

He kisses her dead lips.

She comes back for seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

On the tenth choking, she flutters her eyes open before the moment of total darkness and mouths a sweet, hollowed-out, “thank you” to him and it’s so eerie and beautiful that he can’t breathe.

The twelfth time feels like she’s fucking him. Or fucking with him.

It's an out-of-body experience. She licks his soul like an ice cone. 

He says “I love you” feverishly, broken words against the side of her throat as he loses all feeling in his fingers.

No blood can actually reach his dick, so he softens, even in ecstasy. 

Bonnie catches him in her arms.

He’s really light, despite the extra weights.

She brushes the fringe away from his face. Kisses the side of his cheek.

“Rest,” she whispers, letting him lie down on the bed.

He’s barely hanging on to the thread of life.

She stares down at him. Maybe she’ll throw him a bone.

Maybe she’ll let him live one more night.

Bonnie smiles, sated, but always hungry for more. Death tickles the back of her throat. 

She’d like to get to thirteen. 


End file.
